


Off With Her Head

by thatbug



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon Era, F/F, Humor, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbug/pseuds/thatbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras insists that since she has never been touched by a man, she is a virgin. Her lover, Grantaire, begs to differ.</p><p>The subject goes to Les Amis for debate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off With Her Head

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is just stupid ridiculousness. One thing that will never fail to amuse me is how even good-hearted straight boys are unable to comprehend lesbians (or really, women in general). So, I decided to write the barricade boys debating just what constitutes virginity when you have sex exclusively with women, with Enjolras and Grantaire both trying to sway them their way.

Marius left the meeting with the majority of the students, leaving only Enjolras and her closest lieutenants, those who she considered friends as well as brothers-in-arms. Enjolras glared at his back as he retreated. “He should not have come,” she said disdainfully, “If I wished to hear of his sweet love, I would have asked him. The world would be a simpler place without lust.”

Bahorel shook his head. “I must disagree with you here. The boy has his head in the clouds, but his cock has been staying inside his trousers. Lust is a delightful pleasure.”

“It is a distraction,” Enjolras snapped, “and I do not admire you for it.”

“Though you may pride yourself in your chastity,” Feuilly said, “it is an ideal that we cannot all strive for.”

Grantaire smiled and sat next to Enjolras, swinging her legs over Enjolras’, filling her lap with a froth of petticoats. “That is because her chastity is naught but an illusion. She controls her lust in the best way: by satisfying it.”

Enjolras glared at her love. “I am yet a maid, as you well know,” she said. She addressed the table. “Pay no heed to Grantaire. No man has ever laid a finger on me. I do not desire men, only their freedom. If I were to take a husband, it would be all of France.” 

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you take all of France,” Bahorel called with a wink, laughing at Enjolras’ exasperated sigh.

“That would surely chafe horridly,” Courfeyrac said, “I made the attempt once myself, but found myself quite worn out before I had reached Lyon.”

“An honorable effort,” Grantaire said, a smile upon her lips. “Made more honorable by your admittance. Enjolras is a horrible liar and a hypocrite as well, speaking of her glorious virginity when we all know where she have been.”

Feuilly looked suddenly interested. “And where has Enjolras been?”

Enjolras glared at Grantaire. “As I said, to the bed of no man.”

“But a maid, you are not,” Grantaire replied. “I have seen your face in shuddering release many times, and I know that you were not inexperienced when we first came together in defiance of law and nature, when your tongue first brought all manner of unholy delights to my wholly unprepared loins. I have buried my fingers deep inside your most secret caverns, I have licked your monthly blood from your thighs, I have felt your pretty red mouth against my breasts, and yet you have the audacity to call yourself a maid.”

Bahorel whistled. “If raising an army of little soldiers was your intent, Grantaire, you have succeeded admirably, yet you have not disproved Enjolras’ claim.”

“If the only way to lose one’s virginity is by laying with a man,” Courfeyrac said, “I reckon that Combeferre, Grantaire and I are the only ones who may make that claim. Though, Bahorel, if you would appreciate assistance in that regard, I would be more than willing to help in any way.” He gave Bahorel a charming grin.

Feuilly and Bahorel laughed heartily. “Though I think your list may not be complete,” Feuilly said, “You make a valid point.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “I would agree that he does. Once we have agreed upon the definition of the word, we may settle who has won this argument, our leader or her love.”

Enjolras wrinkled her nose at Grantaire and sniffed. “She seeks to make me impure.”

“I have already done so. I seek to make you honest,” Grantaire replied. She leaned forward and kissed Enjolras’ cheek, leaving a small smear of rouge. “We are among friends. There are none here who will judge you for the truth. I will not sully your reputation outside of these walls. The silly little students who hang onto your every work will never hear of what your mouth does when there are no speeches to give. But here my love, among our friends, I would have no lies.”

“Nor would I,” Enjolras agreed. “But I maintain that I am pure. Let our friends hear the evidence, and let them decide.”

“Excellent!” Grantaire exclaimed. “So. Your virginity stands on trial, and I shall not be gentle! Prepare the guillotine, my boys, I shall have her maidenhead!”

After Grantaire’s pronouncement, there was much laughter, and demands for more drinks to be brought, until finally, almost a quarter of an hour later, Les Amis were all gathered around the table.

Combeferre began. “So, we have determined for Bahorel’s sake that lying with a man is not the sole qualification for virginity.”

“I would offer that a lay with the member of the opposite sex would be fair,” Feuilly said. “A man with a woman or a woman with a man.” 

“That would leave me a virgin,” Combeferre said, “And though I will not favor you with as many details as Grantaire saw fit to share, I will say that nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Well, perhaps it was not women-parts you were penetrating,” Feuilly said, manfully continuing on, “But I assume you have penetrated.” Combeferre gave a slight nod. “Well, that is as close an approximation as you will have to a female, so perhaps we could call you a half-virgin?”

Courfeyrac booed. “Why not a third? Three-quarters? Seven-twelfths? There is no logic to your system. Combeferre is no more a virgin than you are, Feuilly, and besides, he is not our subject of discussion. We may return to the topic of sodomy at a later date, but in the meantime, we speak of Enjolras.”

Joly spoke next. “It is generally accepted that a woman bleeds her first time, as a membrane protecting her is torn.”

Enjolras smirked triumphantly. “Well, then, Grantaire, I have not bled for you or any other. You are wrong.”

Joly raised his finger. “Ah, but it is true that the membrane may be torn from other causes. Many a man has been disappointed when his bride does not bleed for him.”

Bahorel shrugged. “Not so great a tragedy. I’d rather have them wet and moaning than tight and whimpering.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Bossuet said, raising his glass in Bahorel’s direction.

Grantaire took a drink as well. “Well, I have made many a careful exploration of our dear leader’s nethers, and I must say that I have seen no such thing."

Enjolras glared. “Joly says other causes may tear it. As such, I maintain that despite your oh-so-thorough and remarkably enjoyable investigations, you have proved nothing.”

Grantaire huffed. “At least you admit you have benefited from them, even if you do not believe them legitimate.”

Enjolras looked affronted. “If the matter was being discussed was whether or not you please me, I would not contest it.”

“Grantaire’s point is valid,” Combeferre said. “Do we question the legitimacy of their relationship?”

“Only the legitimacy of their relations,” Feuilly said. “No one denies their love, though I confess I myself do not understand it. I do not question that your love for your man is any less than any of our love for our mistresses. But we do question whether the acts you gain pleasure from qualify for a loss of virginity.”

“They do not,” Enjolras said firmly. “I have not lain with a man, or even kissed one with any sort of passion. There is no man outside these walls who would question for a moment my purity.”

“Combeferre, darling, would you terribly mind leaving the room for a moment?” Grantaire asked. 

“In the people’s eyes, I am a virgin,” Enjolras said firmly. “So a virgin I am, and a virgin I shall remain.”

“Ah! But we do not speak of the people,” Grantaire said, leaning forward. “To the people, you shall remain forever untouched by their own silly standards, but we need not hold the same here. I would have honesty, not these half-truths! We have argued too long, we must get to the heart of the matter.”

“Have I lied?” Enjolras protested, “I have not denied my actions, and I would proudly enumerate them had I the time. I shall leave our friends to draw their own conclusions.”

“And leave this argument incomplete?” Courfeyrac said. “No! I admit to it being of a purely scholarly interest to me, seeing as I am a virgin under no definition that we could arrive at, but I am curious to see what is decided.” He leapt to his feet. “Continue, please. I shall fetch more wine.”

Grantaire stood. “Let us settle this once and for all. I am of the opinion that any encounter of the sexual variety may be counted as a loss of virginity. Enjolras believes that she shall remain pure until she has a cock inside her.”

“Until I die, if I have a choice in it,” Enjolras said.

“Now,” Grantaire continued, “We put the vote to you. Prouvaire! I see you blushing! You have yet to speak! What are your thoughts?”

The man was indeed flushed. “I do not share your belief. If I—provide use to a woman, with my mouth—”

“If you lick her pussy,” Grantaire clarified, smirking at Jehan.

“If I do that,” Jehan continued, “I have not taken her maidenhead. Same if I only touch her, or if I do as Combeferre does.”

“Fuck men?” Combeferre asked, raising a brow.

“Fuck up the arse,” Bahorel clarified. “A valid point, and a well done to you, Prouvaire.”

There was much laughing, and Jehan blush darkened. 

Bossuet took a long drink. “Now, I believe Feuilly mentioned something of worth. Combeferre has not lain with a woman, yet he has—” He cut himself off and inserted his forefinger into his clenched fist. “You know.”

“I have penetrated? Yes,” Combeferre said, looking amused at Bossuet’s discomfort. 

“And Grantaire, she has been penetrated by men, so she does not call herself virgin,” he said.

“With little satisfaction to be sure, but many times,” Grantaire said. “If I could trade all those falsified crescendos for a single kiss from my lady’s lips, I would.”

“The point I am trying to make,” Bossuet said, “is that people may parody the more typical form of intercourse with the gender of their choosing, and upon the completion of that act for the first time they may no more term themselves pure. So, if Enjolras has been penetrated—”

“But between women, there is nothing that they may penetrate each other with, save fingers and tongues, which, as Prouvaire says, are not the tools through which one may be deflowered.” Bahorel pointed out. “What act would you substitute for our leader? Perhaps, Enjolras, now would be the time to enumerate your sins.”

“Or perhaps they may rub together?” Feuilly asked, examining two of his outstretched fingers, as though they were legs. “Is that an act that could be done?” He crossed them with two extended fingers from his other hand. “I’m sure something could be managed.”

Enjolras could not help the laugh that escaped her. “Yes, Feuilly, it can be done.”

“In that case,” Feuilly said, “I declare Grantaire victorious,” and Bossuet nodded. 

Joly shrugged. “That Enjolras herself admits that she has yet-undeclared sins is enough for me. I side with Grantaire.”

“This is one of the few matters where I find you wrong,” Combeferre said. 

“I too, am against you,” Courfeyrac said, “If only because I tire of you disapproving of my lusts.”

Enjolras glowered. “I disapprove of all distractions.”

Jehan bit his lip. “I side with Enjolras, for if I did not, there are a number of husbands who would have reason to hate me.”

Bahorel stood up. “I have it! Enjolras chastised me for my lust; she prides herself on her purity because she is not distracted by such feelings.” He looked around the circle, collecting nods, and continued when Enjolras slightly inclined her head. “We are not pure because we are creatures of passion. Enjolras claims she saves her passion for her cause, and Grantaire contests her. I myself have much passion for the cause, and all, with the exception of Enjolras’ lady, feel the same as I do.”

There were nods again. Bahorel continued, the same tone of victory clear. “If we were to forbid Courfeyrac his dalliances, keep Joly and Bossuet from the thighs of their mistress, disallow Jehan the pursuit of fair women, withhold from Combeferre the touch of his lover, or prevent Feuilly and myself from loving our ladies as we should, we all would be furious. So I propose we test if Enjolras is as true to her convictions as she states, for no virgin would hungrily desire another’s hands upon her.”

Grantaire laughed. “Well argued, Bahorel. What say you, my sweet?” She settled herself once more upon Enjolras, this time her knees on either side of Enjolras’ thighs. Her hands came up to rest, as if on instinct, on Grantaire’s hips, her fingers curling around the swell of Grantaire’s arse. “My breasts or your purity, which do you chose?” She leaned forward, her breasts threatening to spill from their already immodest coverings. 

Enjolras let out a groan. “It is lucky for myself that I call you dear enough friends to let you see me in defeat. If this is how you chose to define purity, then there is nothing that I can do.”

There was a rousing round of applause. “Of course,” Feuilly said, “Your innocence shall remain unquestioned when we leave this room, but until then, you must cease to chastise us for the lusts we share.”

Enjolras nodded. “An acceptable, if not desired, compromise. Well done. I shall not disapprove of your feelings, unless they interfere with our cause, at which point, the fury of hell shall descend upon you.”

“I look forward to seeing Marius being caught in it,” Bahorel said.

Grantaire grinned broadly and kissed Enjolras heartily, cupping her face in both hands and nearly toppling her out of their seat. "Thank you for your words, dear."

Courfeyrac stood and put his hat on. "Well, as much as I would love to stay and watch, I have my own bed to return to, and I suggest you all do the same. Good bye, my friends, and thank you for the excellent sport."

He smiled at them all and exited, followed slowly by the rest of the men, leaving Grantaire and Enjolras alone in the candlelight, still tangled in each others arms.


End file.
